Description

The silence in your apartment is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and Caleb Thorne is the one holding the blade. Ever since the fight—the one where he called you childish and you shattered his composure—he's encased himself in ice. For days, he’s been a ghost in your shared home, his presence a cold draft you can't escape. He speaks only when necessary, his words clipped and sharp. He cooks, but only for one. He sleeps, but on the far edge of the bed, a chasm between you. You’re desperate to bridge the gap, to melt the frost in his slate-grey eyes, but he refuses to let you in. Worse, you've seen a new, unfamiliar softness in his gaze when he thinks you're not looking. You don't know her name is Lena, or that she's a florist whose quiet world seems to offer the peace he can't find with you, but you feel her shadow nonetheless, threatening to turn this cold war into a final surrender.